I believe it was my first boyfriend who told me, "You think funny." He's also the one who said, "You think too much." He was right about the first pronouncement, but I didn't think too much of him after the second one. Well, yeah, I do think funny. Can't help it. Wired that way. No matter how dire the situation or how depressed I get there have only been a few times in my life when my mind hasn't seen the humor in my plights. I'm the one who has to bury her face in her memorial program at a funeral because I realize that the dearly departed has daisies in the bouquet covering her hands, and she was allergic. Will she sneeze, I wonder as I try to suppress a snicker without much success. My mind conjures up a picture of 91-year-old Aunt Helen sitting up and asking for a tissue, as mourners faint onto the folding chairs like toppling dominoes. I start giggling uncontrollably as I add in the funeral director and his minions racing around in their black and white funeral garb like hysterical penguins trying to catch the fainters and restore order. Painful medical procedures, embarrassing moments with toddlers, tweens, and teenagers? Times when my nearest and dearest try my patience beyond endurance, or I try theirs, and they let me know? It's all a lot easier to bear if I can see the funny side, and there almost always is one. Like Erma Bombeck, I mention a few times that my family is driving me crazy. But I go on to say that I know that I drive them crazy too. I don't mind telling my readers that I love my family and friends and think they're awesome. I'm not big on f-bombs in my writing or real life unless I drop something really heavy on an appendage. In my book, that's what f-bombs are for. Most of the writing in my first three books came from the years that we unschooled. A few people have asked me if I'll still write now that both of my kids are in college and mostly out of the house. (One wonders if they've forgotten that I've also had Geekdaddy to write about for 36 years. He hasn't moved out. Yet.) Yes, I'll still write, because I'm a writer. I'm also as curious as a barnful of cats. From plotting polecats to why you shouldn't pet an armadillo without gloves on, there are so many eclectic subjects that attract my interest. My kids are launched, but my writing spark isn't quenched, and I'm not ready to sink into geezerdom. Crow's Feet and Magpie Mind, that's me. Coincidentally, that's the name of the book I'm working on now.